


Nightmares

by kmc995



Series: Memories [2]
Category: The Wolves of Mercy Falls - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Angst, Flashback, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Blood, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-13
Updated: 2012-11-13
Packaged: 2018-01-08 20:58:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1137328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kmc995/pseuds/kmc995
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam has a nightmare of when his parents tried to kill him. Beck calms him down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> A series of one-shots about Sam and Beck's relationship, bringing to life memories Sam has with his foster father.

_The room clouded thick with a suffocating mist._

_Windows and mirrors and rose patterned tiles fogged._

_Mommy’s hand holding my wrist, a little too tight._

_The tub was filled almost to the brim with water._

_There were no toys in it like there usually was._

_The steam was pouring off the surface, hissing as the cooler air licked the top._

_The heat was so thick._

_“Mommy?” I said, “is it bath time?”_

_No response._

_Daddy came in. He was holding something behind his back._

_Maybe it was my rubber froggy._

_They told me to get in the tub._

_No need to undress._

_A game?_

_I don’t think I want to play._

_Picked up, placed in the tub._

_Too hot. Burning hot._

_Clothes soaked._

_So heavy._

_Mommy and Daddy share a look._

_I was scared. I don’t like this game._

_Struggle._

_They pinned me down._

_It wasn’t my toy frog._

_Sharp._

_Sharp pain._

_Sharp cries._

_Sharp knife._

_Blood._

_Stop!_ Please! _Stop!_

_He won’t die._

Why! _Stop Mommy!_ Stop! _Please!_

_Not human._

_No! Stop!_

“Sam!”

Suddenly the world burst.

“Sam! Wake up!”

My eyes shot open. My head pressed backward as a large, shaky gasp slipped past my lips. I couldn’t get enough air.

“Sam! _Shhh_ , Sam. It’s okay. Breathe,” an unidentified voice whispered loudly above me.

I clutched my wrists against my chest, trying to protect them. Maybe if I pressed them far enough into my chest, they’d be safe.

My head swam as I blinked sweat out of my eyes. Breath was coming easier now, though it was still a work in progress.

“Sam,” a freezing hand pushed the hair back from my forehead. 

“No,” I whined in protest to ceiling. Trembling, I pushed my arms tighter into my chest, restricting my own airflow.

The same freezing hand suddenly grabbed my arms.

_Pinning me down._

_Sharp._

_Sharp pain._

_Blood._

“Stop!” I yelled, ripping my arms from the cold grip and desperately trying to get away from them.

“It’s not real!” the voice yelled, suddenly sounding so far away. “Sam, calm down! It’s Beck! You’re okay!”

I froze in my attempted escape, my legs going limp in the sheets that held me captive.

Beck? Sheets?

My vision started to clear. I was in my room. My room in Beck’s house. 

Still gasping for breath, I blinked and looked towards where I heard him. It was dark, but the moonlight shining through the window was enough to illuminate his figure.

“Beck?” I tried to speak, but it came out as a pathetic croak. He looked warily at me, as if he was uncertain whether or not I was in the here and now. With only a moment’s hesitation, however, he once again sat on the edge of my bed and, as gently as he could, grasped my wrists. I flinched at the contact, then, realizing that my grip on myself was so tight that I could barely feel my fingers, I slowly relaxed them.

“Sam, it was just a dream,” he said, his voice calm and warm.

And then I started crying. Or rather, I realized I _was_ crying. The tears were silently pouring down my cheeks and onto my bare chest. “I-” I couldn’t speak without choking on my own tongue.

Beck leaned towards me and I automatically threw my arms around neck. He wrapped one of his arms around my shoulders and used the other one to press my head against his neck. He held me as I cried, saying nothing. I knew that, later, I’d be embarrassed that I let Beck see me break down, but right now I just needed someone who I knew wouldn’t hurt me. I needed a father.

A long while later – I don’t know how long exactly; minutes? Hours? – my tears subsided and I pulled away from Beck a bit to let him know I was good.  

I was 15 years old and I was still having these dreams. 

No. Not dreams. _Nightmares_.

I angrily rubbed my eyes, frustrated with myself. “Sorry Beck,” I mumbled into my chest. I didn’t really want to see his expression. I didn’t want to see concern or pity.

“It’s fine, don’t apologize.” He sounded like he did any normal day, if not a tad bit quieter.

I stole a quick glimpse at his face. “Thanks.” He met my timid glance and the corners of his mouth quirked upwards slightly. 

“You’re welcome, Sam.”

No other words were exchanged that night. I convinced Beck that I was okay by lying back down and closing my eyes. And surprisingly, I _was_ okay. For the moment, at least. I knew that I had something here that I never had when I was a child. A loving family. I had Beck. I had Ulrik. I had Paul. 

As long as I keep telling myself that, I know the nightmares can never really get me. That was then, and this is now. When I wake, no matter how many times I had that dream, I always find myself coming to the same conclusion: 

“I’m okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> This serves as a sort of prequel to Dream Catcher -- it was this night that Beck decided to make Sam a dream catcher for his 16th birthday.


End file.
